ADMIRAL:
Leaps tall buildings with a single bound, is more powerful than a locomotive, is
faster than a speeding bullet, walks on water amid typhoons, reviews policy with
God.

CAPTAIN:
Leaps short buildings with a single bound, is more powerful than a switch
engine, is just as fast as a speeding bullet, walks on water if sea is calm,
talks to God.

COMMANDER:
Leaps short buildings with a running start and favorable winds, is almost as
powerful as a switch engine, is faster than a speeding BB, walks on water in
indoor swimming pool, talks to God only if a special request chit is approved.

LIEUTENANT:
Makes high marks by trying to leap buildings, is run over by the locomotive, can
sometimes handle a gun without inflicting self injury, dog paddles, talks to
animals.

LIEUTENANT jg:
Runs into buildings, recognizes locomotives two out of three times, is not
issued ammunition, can stay afloat if properly instructed in the Mae-West, talks
to bulkheads.

ENSIGN:
Falls over doorstep when trying to enter building, says look at the Choo-Choo,
wets himself, plays in mud puddles, mumbles to himself.

CHIEF:
Lifts buildings and walks under them, kicks locomotives off the tracks, catches
speeding bullets in his teeth and eats them, freezes water with a single glance,
makes policy and enforces it,
HE IS GOD.

1. When commencing this emulation,
remember to lock yourself inside your house. Board up all windows, leaving all
friends and family outside. You can communicate only with letters that your
neighbors will hold to two weeks before delivering; losing one out of five. Have
a friend or neighbor yell "Mail Call" at your door. Four out of five times, he
will snicker and say; "You didn't get anything."

2. Surround yourself with 5,000 people you either don't like or don't know.
These people will chain-smoke, fart loudly, snore like a Mack truck on a up hill
grade, complain constantly, seldom shower, wear clean clothes, or brush their
teeth and use expletives in speech the way kids use sugar on cold cereal.

3. Unplug all radios and televisions to completely cut yourself off from the
outside world. Have a neighbor bring you a 'TIME' or 'NEWSWEEK' magazine from 2
or 3 months ago, and a 'PLAYBOY' magazine with the pictures cut out.

4. Monitor all operating home appliances hourly, recording all vital parameters
(plugged in, light functions when door opens, etc.). If not in use, log every
four hours as "secured".

5. Do not flush the toilet (s) for the first three days to simulate the smell of
forty people using the same commode. After that, flush once daily. Shower water
should be either all hot or all cold. When you get all soaped up (soap on face /
shampoo in hair), have your neighbor shut off the water.

6. Wear only approved coveralls or proper uniforms (no special or cut-off
T-shirts). Even though nobody cares, once a week clean and press one uniform in
the dark on a broken ironing board (or a towel on the floor) and wear it for 20
minutes while standing at attention. After this, change back into coveralls,
catch and rip the sleeve of your shirt on a sharp object on your way to change,
curse and yell, then wad it up and throw it in a smelly locker.

7. Cut your hair weekly, making it shorter each time until you are bald or look
like you tangled with a demented sheep-shearer. Have a friend or neighbor loudly
tell you to get a haircut at least once every other week, whether you need one
or not.

8. Work 18-hour cycles, sleeping only 4 hours at a time to ensure your body
doesn't know or care if it's daytime or nighttime.

9. Listen to your favorite cassette 6 times a day for two weeks, and then play
music that causes acute nausea until you are glad to get back to your 'favorite'
cassettes.

10. Cut a twin mattress in half length-wise. Place it in a sideways metal box,
the roof should be low enough to prevent you from sitting in any position (18
inches is plenty). Place the metal box on a platform so that it is at lease 6
inches from the floor. Place a dead animal under your sheets to simulate the
smell of your bunkmates, the laundry and shipboard life. Whenever possible, and
without warning, have someone take your pillow or blanket (or both) to simulate
that special camaraderie that exist only on-board an U.S. Naval warship.

11. Set your alarm clock to go off at the 5 minute 'snooze' intervals for the
first hour of sleep to simulate alarms, of watch-standards and night crew going
on and off duty, and at odd times just to wake you up. Place your metal box on a
rocker to ensure that you are tossed from side to side for the remaining three
hours of sleep. Alternately use a custom alarm clock that sounds like a fire
alarm, police sirens, and loud punk rock combined to simulate various drill
alarms on-board the ship and so you will get accustomed to ignoring your regular
alarm clock.

12. Prepare all food while blindfolded, using all the spices that you can grope
for, or none at all, to simulate shipboard food. Remove the blindfold and eat as
fast as humanly possible. If the food does not stick to an inverted plate when
cold, use more lard. If the food contains more than one part per thousand of
fiber, dispose of it. Always take more than you can possible eat to keep up the
waste standards of the Navy. Remember over-cooking or under-cooking is
preferable to proper cooking. Also combining old food to new food is also
encouraged.

13. Periodically shut off all the power at the main breaker and lie face down on
the floor with your hands on top of your head while a friend or neighbor points
a loaded rifle at you and repeatedly yells at the top of his voice, "Get on the
Deck". Continue this for at least 20 minutes to simulate Marine security drills.

14. Buy a gas mask; smear the seal with rancid animal fat, scrub the lens with
steel wool until you can't see out of it. Wear it for four hours every fifth day
(even to the bathroom) and run rapidly from one side of the house to the other.

15. Prepare yourself an emergency that will require you to evacuate the premises
knowing that if you exit, the biker gang that you hired will cut off your arms
and legs to simulate sharks. Study a first aid book to learn how to handle
wounds and control bleeding until you can quote it verbatim.

16. Study the owner’s manual for all appliances in the house. At regular
intervals, take one apart and put it back together again, then test operate it
at the extremes of its tolerance.

17. Remove all plants, pictures, and decorations. Paint all furnishings and
walls haze-grey, white or the green shade of hospital O.R. smocks.

18. To make sure you are living in a clean and happy environment, once every
week clean from top to bottom, working hard at cleaning all day even if it is
only a 2 hour job. Then have someone tell you that you missed some dust and your
floor looks like crap. When completed, have someone inspect your work,
criticizing everything as much as possible. This person should never be
satisfied with good effort or work.

19. Once a day, put in a video (which you have prepared) to watch a movie that
you walked out on a year ago. Then watch an episode of "Charlie's Angles" that
you didn't like the first three times you saw it. Make sure you pause it just at
the peak of action so you can sweep the floor or listen to someone talk loudly
about something stupid.

20. Since you will get no medical care, stock up on Band-Aids, Aspirin, and
Pepto-Bismol. You must be able to cure every disease and ailment known to man.

21. Every six weeks to simulate liberty in a foreign port, go out directly to
the city slums wearing your best clothes. Enter the raunchiest bar you can find
and ask the bartender for the most expensive imported beer he carriers. Drink as
many of these as fast as you can in four hours, then hire a cab to take you home
by the longest route possible. Tip the cab driver after he charges you double
because you were dressed funny and lock yourself back in your dwelling for
another six weeks.

22. Run a loud blender in every room at a constant high speed to simulate the
constant whine of the ship's machinery and have the biker gang you hired pound
on the roof and walls to simulate recovering and launching aircraft.

23. To achieve the permanent, smelly, dingy, wrinkled look in your clothes, have
the plumber connect the washer to a sewer line. Tightly cram you clothes into a
nylon bag and wash whole. Throw the bag in a corner for 2 days and then without
removing the clothes from the bag, dry it. It helps if your clothes are tied in
tight knots before cramming into a bag. For best results, add two or three ink
pens to each bag.

24. This simulation must run a minimum of 6 months to be effective. The exact
date of the end of this simulation will be changed no less than 7 times without
your knowledge. This is done to keep you guessing as to when you can expect to
get back to a semi-normal life. It is also done in hope of screwing up any plans
you have made or would like to make. On the last day of this simulation, remove
the boards from the windows but do not go outside, have your love ones stand
across the street, and you face them while standing at attention for 4 hours.

Note: This simulation was designed for those who would like to but haven't had
the opportunity to enjoy an deployment on-board a U.S. Navy ship.

Rule
One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package,
because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as
you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or
hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their
trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't
take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.
Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his
compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants
ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your
clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my
daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in
place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a
"barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to
sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we
should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not
do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you
expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need
from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other
girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise,
once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but
her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more
than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the
movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process
that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just
standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my
car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places
where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places
where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where
there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to
wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a
sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong
romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are
okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. On issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing,
merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom,
you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not
trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of
your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi.
When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me
to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you
pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight.
Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my
daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for
you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

“Thank you for calling the British Army. I am sorry but all our units are out at
the moment, or are otherwise engaged. Please leave a message with your country
of origin, name of organisation, the region, the specific crisis and a number to
call you.”

“As soon as we have sorted out the Balkans, Northern Ireland, The Firemen, Iraq
2, marching up and down bits of tarmac in London and equal opportunities
training, we will return your call.”

“Please speak after the tone, or if you require more options, please listen to
the following.”

“If your crisis is small and close to the sea, press 1 for the Royal Marines.”

“If your problem is distant, with a tropical climate and good hotels, and can be
solved by a few low risk – low level bombing runs, press # for the Royal Air
Force. – Please note this service is not available after 16:30 or at weekends.”

“If your enquiry concerns a situation that can be resolved by a bit of grey
funnel, bunting, flag waving and a really good marching band, please write WELL
in advance to the First Sea Lord, The Admiralty, London.”

“If you are interested in joining the Army and wish to be shouted at, paid
little, have premature arthritis, train to be a fire-fighter, execute regime
changes in hot places, put your wife and family in a condemned hut miles from
civilisation, and be prepared to work your arse off daily with leave being
cancelled at short notice, whilst watching the treasury erode your original
conditions of service and career – your call will be connected to a bitter,
passed-over recruiting Sergeant in a grotty shop out of town.”